


Chocolate Pancakes

by nonsannochetuseilantartide



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Jon is a stubborn idiot, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has ADHD, M/M, Martin Blackwood Has a Crush on Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin is soft, s1 Fluff, well it's not fluff but sorta...?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28035240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsannochetuseilantartide/pseuds/nonsannochetuseilantartide
Summary: Jon is an overworked idiot that doesn't know where to stop.Martin, on the other hand, is tired of his bullshit.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Kudos: 10





	Chocolate Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> When you're projecting so hard into one character that you just-  
> yeah   
> Chronologically it doesn't make sense, I think, but what matters is the inside, right?

Jon was still at work.   
He was in his small office, eyes locked on all those papers on his desk. Many, many coffee cups were on the desk’s wood like to build a bizarre Babel tower definitely unsafe, stacked as they were, while the tired eyes of the archivist were still on discarding statements on statements.   
The tape recorder was lying a few inches from his fingers, making a weird sound, just like a plain ready to take flight.   
He was still not satisfied, and the sun had been down behind the London’s skyscrapers since many hours.   
The world was going to take a break, beyond the Institute’s walls, while he was still there.   
If he wanted to finish the work on a reasonable time, he had to roll up his sleeves and star riding.   
He sat on a more comfortable way on his little chair, feeling ailments all over his body.   
It was like every single cells in his body was on the verge of collapsing, like he was going to fall on that damn desk.   
He didn’t had a great sight, even with the glasses on, and all that caffeine into his body just hadn’t the wanted effect. More like the opposite, really.   
Such a disaster. He was such a disaster.   
He scratched his head, yawning heavily.   
He couldn’t just give up, but a least he was allowed to feel human.   
He took the tape recorder, gawking at the other pile of statements full of fun stories to tell at parties.   
Or maybe not, maybe it was really important stuff.   
But, he didn’t cared much. He just wanted to document.  
-Statement begi…Martin! I beg you!- he was about to start, when the door opened with a squeak that was this close to made him list a bunch of saints and swear words.  
On the door, there was Martin. Shy as usual, the curly hair falling on his glasses locked on the floor. The old sweater to cover his soft shapes.   
He was so tall that with his head he could touch the end of the superior part of the door, an awkard smile on his face.   
Jon turned around in a shot, blocking in the beginning the recording, and started watching the other man.   
There had been passed about two months from the...the Prentiss accident, and after that the assistant had to stay here, and anyone of them got the habit of seeing the other so frequently.  
It wasn’t like the head archivist didn’t liked other people’s company, or in turn the assistant was a reserved dude, but both of them just couldn’t understand how the other was always into his way.   
Jon in his professional life, Martin in the private one.   
They were both strangers forced to share an home, and no one could say if it was a good or a bat thing.   
At least, they didn’t killed each other, for now.   
-Why are you still here? Go away, I must register- mumbled the man, without losing his temper for a single second.   
Usually, if he interrupted the registration Martin just went straight up by the door with a shower of apologies, like he was in trial for murder, closing slowly the door.   
But, why he was still by the door?   
-It’s late. Like, super late- he limited himself with an escaping tone, drumming his fat fingers on the door. -You’re going to get hurt if you still work so much and without so much light. In twenty years you’re going to be totally blind and…-  
-You’re not my mum, I’m an adult and I know my limits- with an annoyed puff, he turned himself again to the recorder, regaining when he had interrupted himself.   
Unfortunately for him, Martin was way more stubborn than he had ever imagined.  
He heard the assistant making a few steps towards him, making deep breaths.   
-Martin. I know my limits- he turned again, spelling carefully the words,   
the rough movement made drop the old grandma style shawl that often he wore for not dying from the cold during the less hot hours of the day, because often he even forgot to take a hoodie with him, leaving the dark arms free and a single Queen’s shirt well tucked into his pants.   
It was one of those shirts that he wore when he had any other thing to wear, but it wasn’t that bad.   
Almost immediately, a gust of wind made him regret a few of his life choices.   
-I’m not an elementary school kid, and I know what I have to do and when to do it. I don’t need your advices or whatever, I’m perfectly able to to decide when to stop and when to start- he didn’t noticed the fact that he was basically having a monologue with himself and himself alone, said more by the fatigue that from other things, trying to adjust again the shawl on his shoulders.   
Speaking about his fashion sense was just like talking about the trash bin of a luxurious restaurant: Jon dressed badly.  
Skirts made of thick wool, gigantic sweaters and old relatives’ t-shirts were an everyday thing, and often around the colleagues there was this joke that basically Jon bequeathed the old Gertrude’s way of dressing when he took her place.  
And his colour coding…definitely questionable.  
He was a bog gnome armed with an axe, in conclusion.   
Also in the height, of course.   
The two remained in that awkward silence that often created itself after arguments, when Martin opened his mouth to speak.   
-i didn’t knew you liked Queen- he found himself exclaiming, swinging on the roots of his feet with a series of movement that was just created to annoy the man at the desk.   
He hated that kind of movements, they made him quite nervous.   
Replied with an absent grunt, for he didn’t knew the right answer.   
He has been never a fan of loud music, but he had that t-shirt…   
-They were my favourite band when I was at uni. I liked...I liked them a lot, actually- he blurted it out, hoping with all his heart that received that answer he would just go away, leaving him to his work.   
-Oh, great- Martin didn’t wanted to leave, right?   
-You must have been the cool kid, back at uni. Like, the student that everyone knew from fame because he always managed to ace every test with the minimum effort-. He hinted some finger guns, red as a pepper.   
-Once I drank coffee mixed up with monster and dusted vitamin c for an entire week just to stay awake for studying- his replies were like acid on the assistant’s skin. -I managed to fail the exam, by the way-.  
-Well…-  
-And just after I discovered that energy drinks and tea and coffee don’t have any effects on me, but instead make me sleepy, in a certain sense. Basically, I kept going just via placebo effect-.   
-And why do you drink so much tea and coffee, if it makes you feel this way?-   
-Because I like the taste-.   
False. Every cup he drank was a bet with himself: this will give me energies? This cup will do its job?   
And every time, every damn time, the replies were negative.   
The two remained in silence again, just the noise of a clock in some dark corner of the room and the always present buzz from the tape recorder.  
-Now, can you go or you have to ask me other...informations?- how that man could manage to always look like in horrible mix between a narcotics-addicted high school English teacher and the kindest and most understanding kindergarten teacher was an affair between him and his mirror, but in that moment he looked just like a young man exhausted by life.   
Martin produced a sound that could have been considered an incomprehensible murmur, followed by a clearing of voice.   
-I go out. In a pub, not so far from here , that makes awesome pancakes, and I asked myself if you wanted to join me. Like, to have a break from work-  
Have a break. To go in a pub.   
In a pub. To go out. On the external world.   
Jon wasn’t a social animal for sure, and those words in his head made a weird effect.   
He made a long sigh, beginning to tap his fingers on the desk.   
It was the rhythm of an old song that he had heard just one time, but he could always manage to play on the background oh his head, like a personal soundtrack.   
If he went out, he could have possibly waste time and for sure he wouldn’t had fun. He hated heavy noises, he hated the contact with strangers.   
But if he stayed here, like an idiot, he would have lost all of his focus.   
And also, staying alone in the archives, in the evening, it wasn’t a tempting thing.   
The ghosts in that place weren’t just hidden between the paper sheets, unfortunately for him.   
He scratched his chin, thinking for a bunch of seconds.   
His eyes were first on the tape recorder, and then on the other man’s shoes.   
-But...are you old enough to go alone in a pub? Are you legal?- it was one of that phases that sometimes just bounced into his brain, like to give him a new thing to get embarrassed about.   
-Jon- Martin got the habit of hearing those random sentences. -We have the same age-.   
-Really? Are you sure?-   
-Yeah. we’re contemporaries, Jon-   
The fatigue was playing tricks on him.   
-Don’t you see how tired are you? Come on, going out will only lead to good things-   
-I’m not a social animal-  
-If you were one, you wouldn’t work here-   
Jon puffed again, distancing himself with a strong movement the desk from the chair where he was sitting on.   
He took his decision, but at one condition.   
-And these pancakes- he become to star using his usual skeptical tone of voice, the same one that he always used at the end of every statement. -These pancake come also with chocolate cream? Like, with chocolate cream topping?-   
He has spent months without eating chocolate cream, actually. He has spent months since the last time he ate something sweet.   
Every occasion was good, at this point.  
The assistant found himself weirded out from that question.   
He was serious? Like, he was really serious?   
-Yes, I presume- he left himself go to an awkward smile, continuing regardless to swing on the roots of his feet. -Yeah, they make also pancakes with chocolate topping-   
He expected to receive a lovely smile as a comeback, but he received just a confused expression.   
-What are you smiling about?- it wasn’t reproach or anything, just genuine confusion.   
The big, dilated dark eyes, the pupils enlarged to see more things in the darkness.   
-Nothing, nothing- Martin limited himself to laugh in response.   
The two of them were observing each other, the dim light that threw weird shadows on the libraries on the walls.  
-You convinced me- stretching his arms towards the ceiling, he stood up from the squeaky chair, showing his five feet of heigh of pure fatigue. -I’m going to search a jacket and I’ll join you, you start to go out-  
Search a jacket. He often left them here.   
-Alright, but hurry up!- with a shadow of a smile still on his lips, he went to the door.


End file.
